Sonnet Xxvii. In A Library. 2.

A MIRACLE — that man should learn to fill These little vessels with his boundless soul; Should through these arbitrary signs control The world, and scatter broadcast at his will His unseen thought, in endless transcript still Fast multiplied o'er lands from pole to pole By magic art; and, as the ages roll, Still fresh as streamlets from the Muses' hill. Yet in these alcoves tranced, the lords of thought Stand bound as by enchantment — signs or words Have none to break the silence. None but they Their mute proud lips unlock, who here have brought The key. Them as their masters they obey. For them they talk and sing like uncaged birds.